The Weekly Shop (And Other Tales)
by Lasympathetique
Summary: 2D and Murdoc do the weekly shop. And more sneak peeks into the lives of two of the Gorillaz when they're not being fabulous rock stars. Rated T for language.
1. Weekly Shop

The harsh fluorescent lighting of the grocery shop made 2D's head throb, and he pressed a palm to his forehead in a useless attempt to stave off the inevitable headache that was sure to come. He didn't like shopping much, not unless he had a list with him. It was all too overwhelming otherwise. There were so many different things to pick from, it was impossible to decide. And what if he made the wrong choice? Last time he came home with the wrong sort of coffee and Murdoc near about kicked a new hole in his head.

Luckily (or not) Murdoc tagged along, with grouchy mumbles of "nothin' better to do" and "bleedin' waste of a Saturday night" spat under his breath. Of course 2D did not object, and at any rate now he could leave the list writing for another day. That was always stressful too, going about asking everyone what they wanted, having to hunt down things he never even knew _existed_. Like the time Noodle asked for a bok choy. Sure, with proper preparation it was delicious. But 2D didn't know if he could handle another two hour witch hunt for something he didn't even know was a vegetable.

"Right then," said Murdoc, shoving the stray grocery cart from the parking lot at 2D (neither of them could find a quarter), "You push that, 'n stay close. I'm not bloody losing you in the store."

"I don't get lost!"

"Sure, sure," chuckled Murdoc, "And I'm a bleedin' bishop. Keep your trap shut, I'm not in the mood for stupidity."

Canned and Packaged Goods was always the first hit. Lazily, Murdoc surveyed the soups and plucked two _Cream of Mushroom _with knobby fingers.

2D groaned. "Oh c'mon, pick another!"

Murdoc tossed the cans in the cart with a clunk of finality, not even glancing at 2D.

"No one likes mushroom but you!"

Turning quickly, Murdoc glowered at 2D, hard enough to make him recoil. He was grateful for the metal cart between himself and the short tempered man.

"Don't like it, don't _fuckin' eat it._ Simple as that," he growled, tossing in one more for good measure. "An' I don't need to be reminding you who makes the money 'round here, do I?"

"We all do! I work just as much as you-AAH!"

Murdoc threw a can at him. Hard enough to hurt, it bounced off 2D's boney chest and into the trolley. An elderly lady at the end of the aisle turned her head and gave Murdoc a nasty look. He grinned at her with his tongue between his teeth, enough to ward her off in disgust. Murdoc chuckled.

"Stupid ol' bag."

Great, thought 2D dully as he rubbed the spot the can hit. It still stung, deep as his bones, and now his headache was worse. Maybe he ought to have gone alone after all. Warily, he trotted to catch up with Murdoc, who already moved to the boxed macaroni.

2D waited for Murdoc to pick a sort, but one of the brightly advertised boxes caught his eye. "Ooh, can we get the Spiderman ones?"

Murdoc raised his brows and snorted. "What're you, ten? Yeah, yeah, whatever." He waved a hand dismissively, and 2D happily scooped a few boxes into his arms. Quick, easy, and cheap, mac and cheese wound up being most meals. Sometimes 2D found himself getting sick of the powdery cheese and chewy macaroni bits, but it always tasted better when it came in fun shapes.

In the Breakfast aisle there was a young blonde woman looking at oatmeal. Murdoc sidled up to her immediately. At a distance 2D couldn't made out what Murdoc said, but he sure heard the sharp slap it earned him. Prowling back, Murdoc was in an even worse mood.

"Stupid slag, didn't even know who I was, outrageous…"

2D shrugged. "Maybe she never heard of Gorillaz before?"

Murdoc glared at him, but a store attendant was stocking jams nearby, so 2D was spared another bruise. If they got kicked out of this grocery store too, they'd be taxiing for food. Rather, he took his aggression out by angrily tossing peanut butter into the cart.

Distracted by the vast selection of breakfast cereals, 2D was oblivious to most of Murdoc's passive-aggressive destruction. He struggled between the chocolate puffs and frosted flakes.

"Hey Murdoc, which d'you think Noodle would like?" He held up a box in each hand.

Rolling his eyes, Murdoc snarled, "Put 'em both back, you trying to make her a diabetic?" He snatched the boxes and shoved them in random spots, picking out something made up of plain brown squares instead.

"Aw, she won't like that."

"Shaddup."

They skipped over Condiments and Spices straight into International Foods. 2D picked out the soy sauce Noodle liked, remembering it by the purple and green labeling. Along with a box of rice and several packets of taco seasoning (Russel used it on fried ground beef), 2D found the weird Japanese soda Noodle liked so much, and took a blue bottle as a treat. Make up for the boring cereal. Yeah, he didn't want Noodle to get sick from too much sugar, but she's a kid. Got to have some fun, right?

It was funny watching Murdoc caught in the tug-of-war between maple bacon and regular bacon. One was mouth-wateringly delicious, the perfect hangover food, but the other was on sale.

"Ah, what the hell." He tossed the maple bacon at 2D, slightly gentler than before. "You only live once, amiright?"

2D wrinkled his nose, but didn't say anything. Mornings after a night of drinks Murdoc would always fry up a greasy heap of the stuff, and the smell would fill the entire house, making 2D sick. He hated it, but Murdoc loved it, so it stayed.

Milk, bread, all the necessities always wound up in the trolley when Murdoc did the shop. 2D was glad, he would get so caught up trying to remember the strange things that he'd forget everything else. Sure, he had a bit of a temper, but Murdoc got things done. And he did them right. Something 2D still struggled with.

Whistling to himself, 2D was looking at the colorful yogurts when the same blonde that slapped Murdoc edged next to him, pretending to look at cheese.

"Hi, uh, I was wondering, do you know were the crisps are?" Her voice was high and girlish, and she smiled broadly even when she talked.

2D scratched his blue hair slowly, messing it further. "Well, I dunno about that, you should ask one of the people in the red vests. Maybe aisle seven."

Her smile brightened twenty watts, and 2D noticed a smudge of lipstick on her front tooth. "Do you mind showing me?"

The question confused 2D. "It's right there," he said, pointing over her head to the large number hanging from the ceiling.

The girl's smile dropped. "Oh. Thanks." She stalked away rather angrily, leaving 2D slightly confused. Over from the eggs, Murdoc shot daggers at 2D and stormed over.

"Fuckin' pretty boy, I swear." His hand curled into a fist, but Murdoc held it shaking at his side, grinding his teeth and staring bloody murder at 2D. 2D winced.

"What did _I_ do?"

"You were talkin' that broad up, yeah? Think you can get any girl you want, is that it?"

"No," said 2D slowly, cautiously, "She wanted to know where the crisps were."

Murdoc's lip curled unpleasantly. He grabbed the end of the shopping trolley and jammed it forward, right into the soft of 2D's stomach. "So fuckin' ignorant, I swear…"

Doubled over, 2D gasped for air and rubbed the sore spots, one on his stomach and the other at his temples, pacifying the growing migraine. He shut his eyes tightly, the ugly glowing lights penetrating his skull. Headache medicine, that was another thing to get. Avoiding Murdoc, 2D slipped away to the pharmacy section and piled bottle after bottle of brightly coloured tablets into the cart. Russel joked that half of 2D's diet consisted of pills and syrups, and Murdoc would laugh hard, saying it was funny because it was true. Well, so what. He got headaches, bad ones. Russel and Murdoc just didn't understand. Sometimes Noodle would see him rubbing his temples, and she'd fetch him one of the bottles. Usually he needed four or five (different pills, not bottles) to really dent the pain, but the sentiment was nice. He always made a big show of swallowing it for her, sticking his tongue out with a lengthy 'aaaahhh' so she could nod approvingly. Sometimes his throat got sore from the repetitive swallowing, so he added throat lozenges too. Made a mental note to start taking pills with water more often.

He bumped into Murdoc at the checkout, the latter clutching various _Rock 'n' Roll_ magazines to the front of his unwashed shirt. Murdoc always did this, he'd flip through them and compare whatever band was represented to Gorillaz, usually proclaiming superiority. Setting the heaping pile down, he stared at the pill bottles rattling and rolling about in the trolley.

"Aw you don't need all those."

"I do! I do, I get very severe headaches, you know that."

"I do." Murdoc flicked 2D's forehead with a toothy smirk. "Let's load up and get out of this shitter."

2D wound the plastic bags in his fists while Murdoc flirted with the cashier. A homely brunette with a thin ponytail, she seemed much more receptive to Murdoc's dime-a-dozen pickup lines. While she giggled and battered her lashes, Murdoc effectively slipped two lighters into his back pocket.

He twirled one proudly between his fingers once they had left the store. "See that 2D? Use the ol' noggin once in a while and it'll save you a couple bucks."

"You stole that." 2D felt angry about the whole thing. "She was a nice girl and you stole from her."

"From the corporations, 2 Dent, you thoughtless wonder. That girl in there doesn't sell them lighters, some fat bastard in a suit does. It's his money I'm pocketing, not hers." Murdoc grinned toothily, placing a cigarette between his teeth and lighting it with the stolen lighter. "Ciggy?"

2D slumped his shoulders in defeat, both arms weighed down by the heavy grocery haul. Murdoc, of course, carried nothing. "Yeah, alright then."

Murdoc pulled out a thin cigarette and placed it between 2D's lips, amused by the fact he couldn't do it himself. With a flick the flame sparked, and 2D inhaled acrid nicotine into his lungs. He carefully rolled the cig to the edge of his mouth, inhaling and puffing on separate sides as to not accidentally blow it out.

"That girl, you really think all she was after was crisps?"

"Er, yeah. I think she might've left her glasses at home or something, they were right there."

Chuckling, Murdoc held his cig in his fingers and exhaled extravagantly. "You astound me, 2D. You absolutely astound me."

"You really think Noodle'll like the cereal?"

"Oh yeah."

"Sure?"

"Positive."

"Okay, good." With Murdoc's reassurance, 2D felt better. The handles of the plastic bags cut painfully into his hands, distracting from his head. And the night air was cool and crisp. It would be a nice walk home.

* * *

I wrote this because honestly, I crave to know more about how these guys live their everyday lives. I get that they're rock stars, but c'mon, we want to know the little details too, right?

Thanks for reading!


	2. Home Cooking

Russel would never, ever, not in one million years, not if _his life_ depended on it, tell Noodle that she was a terrible cook.

This time it was a steaming pot of bubbling orange _something_, a thick soup dotted with random solids. Little green chunks of broccoli floated to the top, only to be swallowed by the burping, churning liquid. There was mini-corn, onion, what tasted like an entire container of powder beef broth, all mixed together in a cheesy tasting water solution. He suspected a few of the macaroni and cheese boxes were missing their cheese packets.

Noodle was watching him seriously. "Eat. You eat."

"Okay lil' bug, I'm going." He picked up his spoon and stirred the bowl set in front of him. It felt like stirring oatmeal. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Del shuddered.

_Yo, no way we eatin' that man_

Russel gave him a hard mental kick. This was Noodle, he was going to eat damn well anything she set in front of him. Even if this particular concoction smelled like spoiled milk and burning broccoli. He'd kept an eye on her the entire time she was making it, helped her clean up the dropped pickle jar and turned the stove top on for her. "I'll handle the stove, you tell me when it's done and I'll get it," he said when Noodle tried to climb the counter to watch her creation boil. She was exactly as tall as the stove, which Russel figured meant she was too young to be using it.

He tried to be the only one she cooked with. 2D was kind enough and certainly enthusiastic, but he'd pull stupid shit like letting her cut things with the big chef's cleaver instead of a butter knife. And Murdoc was just plain mean. Not to Noodle, he was more than encouraging in her culinary endeavors. No, he liked adding thinks like pickled herring and straight vinegar, then watched with that familiar sick grin when Noodle set a plate in front of Russel. What a motherfucker.

The bowl was still frothing in front of him. He dipped his spoon and smiled forcefully when he pulled it up, dragging up sticky tendons of cheese. They wobbled like jello, and Russel pulled sharply to sever them.

"All right buttercup, here we go." Bracing himself, trying not to smell the onion, Russel took a bite.

_Aw SHIT that's nasTY AS FUCK DAWG _

_TAStes liKE JOCKstraP MAN_

_SPIT THat shIT OUT C'MON _

He swallowed. Repressed a bodily shudder.

"Mm, tastes great sweetie, just like always," said Russel warmly.

Noodle beamed at his words. She took the bowl and bounded off, presumably to find 2D or Murdoc. Chuckling, Russel took the pot off the stove and out to the trash bin. He always 'ate the rest' later, when Noodle was either busy or asleep. She was always so pleased to find the empty pot, bare scrapings of whatever she cooked still stuck to the bottom, so after dumping the mystery stew he left it carefully in the sink where she would see it. It was harmless, and it made her happy.

Wetting a rag, Russel started cleaning the kitchen mess. There were strange dustings of unknown substances everywhere, all swept away into the sink. He tossed out the food wrappers, shuddering when he counted the empty egg carton among them.

_See, you gonna die of damn salmonella, and don't be sayin' I didn't warn you_

"Del," Russel clutched his head, "Chill. You're making my head pound."

"Talkin' to yourself again, Rus?" Murdoc sidled into the kitchen, black jeans riding low on his hips, chest naked as the day he was born. Giving a great yawn, he opened the fridge to stare blankly at its contents before pulling out the leftover pizza box.

"Bloody Noodle's at it again, cornered 2D in his bedroom. Well, she's not gonna get me this time!" Murdoc proudly shoved a piece of cold pepperoni pizza in his mouth and ripped a bit off. "I'll be _full_."

"She's gon' make you try it anyway," said Russel, "And I recommend you do, unless you want a hole in your head courtesy of my fist."

"An' make me like bloody 2D? You monster, you wouldn't!"

"Man, stop ripping on 2D, that's another thing."

"Calm down, I'm joking," said Murdoc, waving absently as he chewed another gooey slice. "God, you're so bloody nice to the kid. Why aren't you nice to me?"

"You're an asshole, man."

"No I'm not! You want to see a real asshole, go back to America."

Russel gritted his teeth, but dropped the subject. He already had this conversation with Murdoc countless times.

Just then 2D stumbled in, hands clasp over his mouth as both heads turned his way. Suddenly, quite forcefully, 2D shoved Russel to the side with desperation and wretched up a steady stream of chunky, bright orange liquid into the sink. The stench was terrible, like cheesy vomit, and Russel gagged.

"Geez 2D, you gotta do in the kitchen? Really man? We eat in here."

Giving another cough, 2D's lank arms trembled as they held him up over the sink. He ran the water, grabbed a coffee cup and filled it, gulping the clear liquid. Then another. He gargled and spat, rinsed the sink and hastily washed any chunks down the drain. Murdoc cackled gleefully at the whole ordeal.

"You're lookin' worse for wear."

"It's Noodle's soup, it's _horrible! _I got it down, but it came right back up!"

"Lower your voice man, c'mon," said Russel.

"Yeah, yeah sorry."

Murdoc rolled his eyes. "She doesn't bloody speak English, you _buffoons_!"

To his credit, 2D ignored the insult. "I just took a little spoonful 'cause I thought I could just swallow and be done wif it."

Russel chuckled. "Not this time, she really outdid herself with this one."

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, 2D propped himself on the counter, long legs dangling. "She's lookin' for you now Murdoc. She wants you to try it."

"I know!" said Murdoc angrily, "Why d'you think I'm shoving my face with bloody pizza?" He waved a cold slice in 2D's face.

"She'll be so sad though!"

"I don't fuckin' care!"

"You can be a real jerk sometimes, you know that?"

"Shaddup!"

"You shut it!"

_Whack_

Russel continued silently cleaning up. Those two bickered like an old married couple, it was an act he'd grown used to over time. Just let it play out, wait for a distraction.

And thankfully a distraction came. Like a little cat, Noodle poked her head around the corner, her grin filling up her face. Murdoc froze half-punch, and 2D relaxed gratefully. Russel was thankful that the two kept their stupid domestics away from Noodle.

She trotted right up to Murdoc and held out the chipped ceramic bowl filled with thick soup. It looked congealed, a solid layer hardening the top.

"You eat."

"Uh, no, darling." Murdoch held up the pizza box. "Full, see? I'm full."

Either Noodle completely misunderstood Murdoc, or she was thoroughly unimpressed with his answer. "No? No. You eat. Pa-lease. You eat."

"Aw, she's usin' her manners," 2D cooed to Russel.

Murdoc was turning pale, and Russel could see him fumbling for words. A light sheen of sweat covered his brow, eyes darting about for some miracle to reign down from the glorious heavens (or up from the fiery inferno) to save him.

"Noodle, I-I…pizza. I eat pizza."

"Yes, you eat pizza, and here." She held up the soup again. "Here too."

Murdoc clenched a fist. There was a clear battle going on behind his eyes as he looked from the adorable girl to the gruesome witch's brew in her hands. Then, with a resounding sigh, Murdoc threw the empty pizza box at 2D, who caught it in a scramble. There was a ring of finality in his voice.

"Fine, _fine_. I bloody eat."

* * *

Another! These are seriously addicting to write. There's no set amount or schedule for these, but they are really fun, so I will likely be writing more. If anyone has any prompts, let me know!

Thank you so much for reading!


	3. New Job

"Hey there, you interested in making some quick money?"

When the man on the street first approached him, 2D was more than a little creeped out. It was a chilly autumn evening and he'd been strolling down the main street, fresh pack of cigarettes in his pocket, wanting to get home before dark. Normally he wouldn't be out so late, what with Noodle's bedtime so soon and it being his turn to read (two chapters of Roald Dahl's _The BFG_), but the cravings were absolutely doing his head in. Plus Murdoc's temper was flared from some incident at the farmer's market, and when Murdoc was miserable everyone was, so he figured a cig break would do everyone some good.

What he didn't count on was the older man loitering outside the convenience store to strike up a conversation, a massive red scarf wrapped around his wrinkled neck. His brown eyes crinkled when he smiled at 2D, looking him up and down.

"You've the right look and everything! And those _eyes. _So unique, so perfect!"

"I, er," 2D was at a loss for words. "The right look…fer wot?"

But the man was already walking around him, scrutinizing his body in a way that made 2D uncomfortable.

"I can't quite tell…" Suddenly a hand reached forward and pulled 2D's jacket further open, revealing the thin t-shirt beneath. 2D jumped back like an angry cat.

"Wot the fuck'er you doing?!" He swatted the man's hand away.

"Ah, my apologies!" The man jerked his hand back. "It's just, you're exactly what I've been looking for."

"Fer _wot_?"

"How'd you like to make a hundred pounds in two hours?"

2D froze. Was he serious? The pack of cigarettes suddenly seemed to weigh a twenty kilos in his pocket. Cigs were getting expensive, and there was food to think about on top of that. Cash was pretty sparse at the moment. All the fabulous rock star money the band made went straight to Murdoc, who blew it on hard drugs and imported goods. Plus Noodle was growing, she'd need new clothes. Stupid stupid Murdoc, for making him even consider taking an offer from some weird old codger.

"Er, like in cash?"

"Yes, yes, all yours, right after each session."

2D thought, slowly scratching his head. "I…I dunno…doin' wot?"

"Here," the old man pulled a brochure from his coat pocket. "These are the some of my other workers. As you can see, we keep it very professional."

Taking the brochure hesitantly, 2D unfolded it. Men, women, some in bizarre clothing, others unashamedly naked. Each picture was beautiful, uniquely artistic, with short autobiographical descriptions beside each one. 2D blushed violently.

"Would I haf tuh…like…go naked too?"

"Well," said the man slowly. "Not always. It really depends, but you won't be forced to do anything you don't want to do, that I can guarantee. But I won't pretend it isn't often requested."

2D squirmed. He remembered just that instant the rent was overdue.

"An'…an' this is legit?"

"Perfectly. We have a website, our own permanent building, files on all our workers _and _cliental. But you don't have to go through all that paperwork, we employ freelance as well. It's all under my name, Brown. James P. Brown. And you are?"

"Uh, Stuart. Stuart Pot."

"Lovely to make your acquaintance, Stuart. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Alright," he heard himself say.

"Wonderful!" The man seized 2D's hand and shook it enthusiastically. He pulled out some paper and scrawled a number and address. "This is the location, come by around eight pm tomorrow and I'll have one of the others prep you. Just what to expect, what's expected of you. The real work starts at nine," he said, winking. "And don't worry, you'll be a natural. I feel it already."

"Uh, fanks."

But the man was already gone, disappeared somewhere down the darkening street. 2D's mind was reeling. _What did I just get myself into?_

He didn't tell the others, even though his stomach was doing flip flops the entire next day. They didn't notice for the most part. Russel made an off-hand comment that 2D didn't eat breakfast or lunch, but he quickly got distracted when Noodle accidentally threw a football at the television. Another expense.

Murdoc lazed about in his underwear the entire day. 2D had no idea how _anyone _could be so comfortable being so, so _bare. _He almost told Murdoc, when they were watching stupid cartoons on the fritzing telly screen, just to gauge his reaction. But then Murdoc called him 'faceache', and that was as good as gluing his lips.

Besides, it was his body anyways. What right did Murdoc and Russel have to comment on what he did with it? They didn't, so there. Murdoc was the band leader, not his owner.

It was six o'clock and 2D was in the bathroom, frantically inspecting himself. Thankfully Murdoc seemed tired of beating on him as of late, there was only a faint yellow spotting over his ribcage. His very prominent ribcage. Would it bother James Brown? Most of the other men in the pamphlet were burly to lean, with smooth muscle definition. Flexing weakly in the mirror, 2D frowned. He was so scrawny. Usually it didn't bother him, he knew he didn't eat the best, he never bothered to fix his habits. But directly compared to those men in the brochure, 2D was nervous about even being picked. Whether or not he wanted to work, he _needed_ the money. So he'd show, and if Mr. Brown rejected him right then and there, that was that. Nothing gained, but nothing lost, really. There was no way to lose.

So then why was he so nervous?

Seven thirty rolled around and 2D zipped up his boots. Rolled the cig anxiously between his teeth.

"Where're you goin'?" called Murdoc, lounging in a ratty armchair. "Pub?"

"Nah, jus' goin' fer some fresh air."

"Quit smokin', the air's loads fresher when you're lungs aren't filled with tobacco."

"I er," 2D slowly realized he didn't have an excuse for staying out all night. "I might not be home tonight. Not 'til late."

"What?" Murdoc twisted around. "What the fuck're you doin'?"

"Jus'…jus' meetin' some mates."

"You got no mates."

"I-I do!"

"Whatever," Murdoch slouched back into his chair, reaching for the remote. Clearly whatever 2D was up to, it wasn't worth Murdoc's fleeting attention. "Just stay out of trouble. Don't take candy from strangers, yada yada."

"Okay." 2D shut the door behind him.

The tube ride went by far too quickly, leaving 2D less time than he wanted to mull things over. The walk was shorter, two streets down from the stop. Before long 2D found himself in front of a sleek silver building with massive glass doors. Far more posh than he expected. Feeling incredibly out of place, 2D pulled the heavy door open and nervously walked in.

There were all sorts of people briskly weaving around one another, all very busy and important looking. Not know where to start, 2D approached the woman behind the fancy reception desk. Her short black hair was sleek and styled, her lips deep red. She seemed entirely focused on the thin computer screen before her, fingers clacking rapidly on the keyboard. 2D swallowed.

"Uh, hi, sorry. I was jus' lookin' fer a Mr. Brown?"

"James Brown? Room B102, second floor." She barely glanced up from her work. "Just follow the signs."

"Right, thanks."

He rode up with a young man in a checked sweater vest who stole glances at his head, trying to conceal his fascination. Right, the blue hair. That wouldn't be an issue, would it?

He stepped off the elevator alone and followed the signs just as the receptionist told him. When he found the door numbered B102, he placed a hand firmly on the knob. No turning back now.

There were three people in the room. Proper lighting was much kinder to Mr. Brown's features than the fleeting twilight, making him look friendlier and put-together. He smiled warmly at 2D.

"Ah, you made it! Wonderful, wonderful. Allow me to introduce Olivia," he gestured to the shorter plump girl with brown hair, "and Hector," a lean bearded man with several facial piercings.

They both looked faintly familiar, and 2D realized he was remembering the pamphlet. He shook their hands. "Nice tuh meet ya."

The girl, Olivia, grinned. "Jim's told us all about you, Stuart! It's a bit nerve wracking the first time, but after that it's really fun! And the people are so nice."

"Usually," Hector interjected in a deep voice. "You get the occasional nut, not too often. Just relax and follow directions, easy as pie."

Their laidback attitudes calmed 2D, and he bobbed his head. "Right, right, that sounds…easy enough."

"The schedule calls for two of you in B107, and one in B109," said Mr. Brown, James, Jim, whatever 2D was supposed to call him. "Your look fits well with Hector's, Stuart. Are you alright starting out as a pair?"

"Yeah, that might be better, actually. It's not jus' me that way."

"Wonderful!" James clapped his hands in that enthusiastic way. "Let's get you two prepped and started."

2D felt peculiar strutting about in the open wearing nothing but nude briefs. He felt weirder with Hector beside him, who was only temporarily clothed in a white bathrobe. The bearded man was limbering up, alternating between pushups and crunches, but 2D preferred to sit still. James said his look was more alternative, so he could get away with being on the skinny side. The blue hair was also a hit, another relief.

Finally Hector shook 2D from his thoughts with a rough pat. "Hey bud, ready to go?"

"I fink so."

"Great. Just relax, breath. They'll love you."

It was weird, being reassured. 2D couldn't remember the last time anyone had comforted him. A warm feeling poured into him.

"Fanks, I mean that."

"Hey, no worries."

Following Hector's lead, 2D walked to the center of the room. Ten or twelve people lined the wall, setting up equipment, organizing things. They didn't so much as glance up, reminding 2D that he wasn't the real star of the show, he was just another instrument, just like Hector. That was oddly comforting as well.

Hector sat on one of the large blocks stacked in the center, and motioned for 2D to join him. Everyone was getting settled, a conversational buzz filing the room and dying down when James Brown entered the room, brown satchel hanging off his shoulder.

"Evening, everybody," he exclaimed. "Tonight, the focus is action lines. Our two models will be alternating poses every five minutes, do not focus on the details, I want you to capture the feeling, the _essence_ of the pose. We will start with casual sitting, and work our way up to the reach."

Taking his cue, 2D sat down. He breathed, relaxed. Already the students were scratch-scratching away in massive sketchbooks, eyes darting from 2D to their papers. Two nights a week, said James, if 2D wanted the work. He resisted the urge to smile.

Noodle was getting new jeans tomorrow.

* * *

Ahahaha, the old prostitution/figure model switcheroo. Not as clever as I originally thought, but still worth a few hundred words.

Thanks for reading!


	4. When Things Get Too Loud

Noodle prized her solitude.

Not that she didn't enjoy the company of her bandmates. Quite the opposite, she loved them fiercely. Russel was always there for her when she was having a bad day, cheering her up and distracting her with some other fun activity. She could go to him for anything. 2D was a constant friend, easy to be around when she wanted simple companionship. Noodle would listen to him blather gibberish for hours while she tuned her guitar; it was background noise with a consciousness attached. In the evenings they watched scary movies, which proved terrifying in any language. And Murdoc, well, he made her feel special. Even on his meanest days, when Russel would leave and 2D hole up in his room, Murdoc would still smile that toothy grin and give her a wink. Like they were sharing a secret.

But sometimes it became too much, a constant dull roar filling the house. Everyone bickered, about what, Noodle had some clue most of the time. It frustrated her how little she could do to stop it, and she found that escaping to her room wasn't enough as time went on. So, often, when the other band members were too wrapped up in their own grand dramas to notice, Noodle would slip out.

She suspected it was an old argument this time. Murdoc always had a bone to pick with 2D, and he was the usual instigator. The two were shouting, one in anger, the other in frantic explanation, when Murdoc snatched up the shade-less lamp and brought it down with in blind rage over 2D's head. The physicality of the fights were what drew Russel, and consequently, the strange blue man living in Russel's head. Calling them 'damn fools', antagonizing Murdoc further. More things thrown, more shouting, and eventually a visit from the police from reports of a domestic.

Strolling down the streets beneath the clear blue sky was much nicer, Noodle found. She liked the wideness of the sky above her, limitless. Already so tiny, there weren't many places she found cramped. But the greater and grander, the better.

People often glanced down at her as she swept passed then, arms swinging. She knew how she must look to them, this small, energetic creature dressed in clothes straight from Punk Rock Barbie. She didn't care. Let them think what they think. They had no idea. She often smiled at them, watching their faces flush as they awkwardly returned the gesture.

Today was a swinging sort of day, Noodle felt. She aimed for the local park, a flourishing chapter of deep green within the sleek city. Just one of her many havens, but her favorite.

In the stretch of the afternoon it was flooded with kids. Just the way Noodle liked it. She lost herself in the strange, foreign chattering of high voices calling out to their parents. Claiming a swing after some snotty kid fell and scraped his knee, she pumped her legs and felt alive. Up and down, up and down, the easiest dance in the world. She couldn't hear the shouting anymore, therefore it didn't exist. She was in Noodle World now, and no one fights in Noodle World.

Often on the swings Noodle lost herself in her own thoughts, letting the sun beat down on her face, blood pumping through her veins as she grasped the metal chains. She let the blue sky sweep through her mind like the breeze, feeling the rush in her stomach at every apex. It was a similar rush to performing onstage, but far less complex. In short, bliss.

But there was a shadow in paradise. A tall man with a baseball cap and blue jeans, friendly smile, about thirty. Cold blue eyes and stubble made him into a wolf. Crouching, talking to a little boy in overalls, white teeth flashing, pageant smile.

Mommy talking on her cell, hand in hair, skin grey and lined with stress. Not noticing.

Small hand enveloped in the wolf's ugly claws, leading him out of the park. In the unyielding sun it was nearly impossible to see looming shadows, but Noodle saw all. She pumped harder, gaining pendulum momentum. Waited for the monster to draw closer. His eyes gleamed, believing his prize secured.

She swung so high she feared she'd bump her head on a cloud.

And she launched.

Flying, whistling through the air like a bird, a raven, an angel of justice.

Whipped out a leg, struck the man square in the head. He barely registered the blow before she flipped over in the air and punched him across the face. Knocked out a wolf tooth, sparkling in the sun as it fell. He stumbled back and cursed, red smeared over his lips.

"_You fucking bi-!" _

Striking like a viper, Noodle jabbed into the soft abdomen with her elbow. With an ugly choke the man doubled over, releasing the boy. By now, they had gathered a lot of attention.

"What's going on?"

"That little girl-"

"Is that his kid?"

"-are her _parents_? I mean-"

"Charlie? Charlie!" The mother, finally. Searching wildly until she scooped up her small son, who was snotty and crying by now. She stared at the hunched man, putting two and two together.

"Were you trying to _abduct my son?!"_

The murmurs rose.

"-did she say-"

"One of those sickos-"

"-kidnapping? You think-"

The man staggered forward madly, making a desperate run. Immediately Noodle chased after him like lightning. Lept and snatched the collar of his cheap jacket. Something bought for ninety nine pence, nothing more than a disguise. She yanked back, propelling herself over his head as he hit the ground like they were playing Leap Frog.

There was a sickening crunch as his head bounced on the cement. Landing soft as a cat, Noodle brushed herself off. People were gathered all around, parents, kids, passers-bye, mouths gaping.

She smiled at them.

Two cops jogged up, cuffed the guy, and asked questions. The mother nodded, brushing a stray hair from her face, pointing at Noodle. One laughed, the other raised his brows, but the mother seemed insistent. From the energy in her voice and broad gestures, she was telling one heck of a story. One of the cops approached Noodle. He crouched down and smiled. Not a predator, more like a lazy bear. Like the yellow one that never seemed to wear pants from the stories 2D read. He spoke words, but it was all a generic English buzz. Shaking her head, Noodle gave him the phrases Russel had taught her.

"Saw-ry, I do nawt speak Eng-lish." The 'l' was hard, but with practice she could flip her tongue as good as any Anglophone.

The cop was taken back; he smiled and ruffled her hair. Noodle bristled and swatted his hand away. Her hair was especially reserved for one set of hands.

Neither police officer seemed particularly interested in dragging her down to the station, so she left. A few people beamed at her, one clapped her on the back enthusiastically. She didn't mind that so much.

It was close to four o'clock when she strolled back inside the house. Silence, the quiet before the storm. Unless the storm was already passed, which was hardly likely. Still, a girl could be optimistic once in a while, right?

Passing through the living room in boxers and nothing else, Murdoc did a double take when he saw Noodle at the doorway.

"Oi, you! Where've you been?" He strode towards her, an angry look on his face. "Worried sick, that's what I've been for the past bloody hour! But you don't care, do ya? Naw, you don't give a shit about ol' Murdoc."

She looked down at the floor. It didn't matter what words Murdoc was saying, he was _angry_. Likely the rage was carried over from 2D, but it still hurt. Stupidly, she felt tears well up in the backs of her eyes.

"Aw, no, c'mon Noodle, don't…"

Biting her lip, Noodling tried to stifle the tears, squeeze them back into the sockets. But wetness tracked down her cheeks, and she knew she was busted. There was a soreness in her throat. Maybe she should have stayed at the park, under the open sky. There was no room in here for all this emotion.

A hand set gently on her shoulder, and she saw Murdoc was eye-to-eye with her. He looked hugely uncomfortable, but his voice was softer.

"I ain't mad at you, I'm not. Just…just stop crying, alright? It's bumming me out."

Noodle took a deep breath. Only kids cry, she was no kid. Rock star, musician, kicker of pedophiles. She was metal, hardcore.

But maybe not right now. Maybe for now she could just _pretend_ like she was a little girl. Only for a little bit, that would be enough.

She gave Murdoc a pretend hug. If she squeezed too hard, it was only because she was trying to make it believable. She guessed it worked, because he pretend-hugged her back.

"It's alright, luv, we fight, but it don't mean nothing. Nothing."

_I love you too_

With an awkward pat, Murdoc let her go. She smiled at him, feeling lighter already.

Murdoc ruffled her hair. "Now go on, silly monkey."

The weights were lifting.

And she was soaring through the air.

* * *

Because being the only girl kid among three loud, gross men had to have been somewhat difficult, right? And who wouldn't have a soft spot for that sweet, dangerous face?

If you liked this chapter, please consider leaving a review, as it lets me know you want more. I'm entirely open to suggestions! Thank you so much for reading!


	5. The Lost Wallet

Murdoc thought he struck the jackpot when he saw the black leather peeking out from underneath the park bench. Stooping down, he picked up the wallet with a toothy grin, looking around to make sure no one was looking at him. Coast clear, he casually slipped it into his back pocket, fingers lingering on the rich material for a moment. Damn, that wallet felt _expensive_. All the better for Murdoc.

He walked two blocks down and into the nearest convenience store, so as to avoid anyone who might be looking for a lost wallet. Leaning against the humming soda freezer, he pulled out the wallet and undid the silver clasp with his toughened, broken nails.

_Click_

The first thing he noticed was that the papery bills were green._ American_. Some tourist probably dropped their bloody wallet right off the plane, before they could exchange currency. Murdoc pictured an obnoxious fat couple with matching Hawaiian shirts and bulging backpacks. He smirked at the stolen wallet for pure spite, feeling satisfied to have swindled a couple of greedy yanks, forgetting that he merely happened to pick it up off the street.

Sixty dollars and some change. No credit card. Murdoc was surprised; for the most part the wallet seemed unusually bare. There was a library card, debit card, a solid red one that read _DP Games, _and a driver's license. He squinted at the smudged photo and found himself surprised.

It was just a kid, barely sixteen according to the birthday. Jason Somera, brown eyes, brown hair, 5'8 and one hundred and forty pounds. _Boring_. Something about stealing from a kid was slightly unsettling, but Murdoc pushed the feeling down. It was a jungle out here, and the laws of the jungle decreed survival of the fittest.

The wallet should at least sell for something. Murdoc made for the nearest pawnshop, luckily this street was littered with them. Thinking on it, this part of the city was pretty shady for some American kid to have dropped his fancy-ass wallet. Most of them stuck to the inner-city where all the frou-frou boutiques and department stores were, staying in Hiltons or other ritzy hotels. Down here the streetlamps flickered at night, garbage littered the street, and Murdoc was pretty sure he passed two guys trading needles in an alleyway. One of them he recognized as the guy who sold _him _stuff, Jack, a reliable bloke, but like to rob a man blind if one let him. Murdoc wasn't a strung-out addict shaking for his next fix yet, so he still got to negotiate his prices.

Ah well. Best to put it out of his mind, otherwise he'd start feeling stupid things like _guilt_ and _responsibility_. After all, what had this American stranger ever done for him? Nothing, which was exactly what Murdoc owed him.

Whistling a melody he'd been mulling over for the past month, Murdoc stepped through the chiming door. Old trinkets and knickknacks lined the shelves by the dingy windows, and a burly man with a clean-shaven head and mean eyes stood behind the counter. Murdoc took his sweet time, picking up a tiny figurine of a naked dragon-lady and looking it over, faintly amused by the absurd perkiness of the figurine's breasts. The employee eyed him carefully, but he needn't worry. Murdoc's fingers weren't feeling particularly itchy today, he'd already lifted more than he could have imagined he would today.

The wallet felt bulky and unnatural in his pocket, glowing hot for everyone to see. Best to get rid of it while he could, before it was reported missing. He emptied the contents, stuffing them subtly into his pockets, and approached the man.

"Eehhy, how much for this d'you reckon?"

The man took the black wallet, feeling the smooth material. Opened it, checked the flaps. His face didn't betray any thought, which unnerved Murdoc. He didn't like being cheated, but he couldn't tell if the man was impressed with the quality or not.

"Twenty pounds," the man grunted, placing it carefully back on the counter. And that was the giveaway. Murdoc instantly knew; no one would treat a twenty pound _leather _wallet so cautiously.

Murdoc's face twisted. "Twenty?! You're fuckin' joking! It's worth at least forty!"

"Maybe new."

"Well, how's thirty seven?"

"Twenty five."

"Thirty five."

"Twenty seven."

"Thirty three."

"Thirty."

"Thirty two?"

The man shook his head, the baldness gleaming in the cheap lighting. "Thirty."

"Augh, fine." Murdoc slid the wallet forward. "You're lucky I need the cash. Bloody thieving, that's what this is."

The man said nothing, but counted the money from the cash register and gave it to Murdoc, who snatched it and pocketed it aggressively. He gave the naked dragon lady one last leer before leaving.

Time to find Jack. 2D was getting on his nerves more than usual recently, every little thing he did flaring a hot anger in Murdoc. Just that morning Murdoc had yelled at him for not screwing the lid on the peanut butter jar properly. But the twit had it coming, if it wasn't one thing, it was another. He couldn't seem to get anything done right, not without the proper motivation. Sometimes Murdoc felt that if it wasn't for him, 2D wouldn't be able to tie his own shoelaces. It stressed him right out some days.

Good thing for ecstasy. Already Murdoc's thoughts were on his night, pop a pill, find a party, and go until dawn. There were always loads of underground parties in this area, pulsating erotic bass and flashing lights. They were mainly drug havens, a place for lost souls to find one another, get high, and _live_. For one night, anyways.

Wondering what type of girl he'd pull tonight, Murdoc check the alleyway for Jack, but the sneaky bastard had already moved on. Always two steps ahead of the fuzz, one step ahead of his customers. Murdoc quickened his pace, getting antsy. With the original twenty pounds he'd brought plus the newly acquired thirty, he could buy the good stuff. But he didn't want to be in these sleazy parts for much longer. Evening was approaching fast, and the night drew out the area's human waste, homeless, alcoholics, addicts. Downright depressing. There was already some kid by the curb, sitting down, face buried in his hands. Murdoc walked past him, glancing down at the poor bastard as he wiped his nose.

And recognized him.

Well shit. It was Jason. Jason Somera from America, with the brown eyes and brown hair, and a backpack slung over one shoulder. The kid was trying to stop crying, taking giant sniffs and rubbing red eyes. Murdoc had half an idea why.

For some reason he stopped walking.

"Hey, er, you. You alright there?"

Jason looked up, startled. Yep, there was no doubt. That was the face on the license. Sure his eyes were puffy, his nose running unattractively and his cheeks wet, but the resemblance was uncanny.

Jason just stared at Murdoc, who fidgeted in the awkward silence. He was already regretting this.

"I'm not gonna mug you," he said shortly.

Unsteadily, the kid stood up. He sniffed loudly.

"I, um, lost my wallet," he said with a distinct American twang. "I'm visiting my mom, I'm from Colorado."

"What, your mum's a junkie?"

"No," said the boy quickly. "No, I was trying to…retrace my steps, in case I just dropped it. But I got lost, and I don't know where I am." The words panicked Jason all over again, and his breathing grew harsh. "I don't have any money, or-or a phone."

"Got an address?"

"What?"

"Where's your mum live, I'm asking."

"I, um," Jason screwed his face in concentration. "I think in the…Boulder Park apartments. Or maybe Bugle Park. Oh shit."

Murdoc wrinkled his nose. "There's a Briar Park just by-"

"Yeah!" Jason exclaimed so excitedly that Murdoc flinched. "Briar, it's Briar!" He suddenly became bashful. "Uh…would you know how to get there? From here?"

Now this was becoming more than Murdoc signed up for. He shifted uncomfortably, thinking for a moment. Then the solution hit him.

"We'll just get you a cab, c'mon." Murdoc took Jason's arm and lead him back to the main street, sticking his free hand to hail one down.

"I-uh," Jason spluttered, "I don't have any money-"

"What?" Murdoc feigned shock, "And here I was thinking it was just your wallet that got snitched. I've got money."

"Wait, no, you can't-"

Murdoc waved for the kid to shut up as one of the cabs pulled over. The guy, a thickset man with a rosary draped around the overhead mirrors, rolled down his window after Murdoc rapped at it.

"How much to Briar Park Apartments?"

The man plugged the address into the cab's GPS. "Fifteen, sixteen's about."

Considerably sobered, Murdoc turned back to Jason. "Right, he'll take you." He gave the kid a twenty, just in case. The boy seemed reluctant, but took the crumpled note.

"Sir, thank you so mu-"

"Forget it," grumbled Murdoc, growing uncomfortable under the look of pure gratitude glowing on Jason's face. He opened the car door and the boy clambered in, slinging the backpack in the seat beside him.

As Jason got settled in the backseat, Murdoc leaned through to the driver again. After making sure the kid wasn't paying attention, he slipped the cards from Jason's wallet to the driver, who took them with some confusion.

Murdoc dropped his voice. "Just give 'em to him when you get there, and don't say you got'em from me."

The driver arched a grey brow, but nodded, slipping the cards into his front pocket. Murdoc stared at him silently. Then he passed the green American bills along too. No point in keeping those, he didn't want the trouble of getting them exchanged anyways. "Those too."

"Right."

Murdoc stepped back and the cabbie's window rolled up, driving off down the street. He groaned. Why was he being so fucking nice? He didn't know, but night was coming. Already too dark to go back and find Jack in those filthy streets. It wasn't a total waste, when he did the math, Murdoc still came out ten pounds richer than he was this morning.

May as well just go home. Murdoc didn't particularly like partying without his drugs. Thrusting your sweaty self around randomly to deafening music lost most of its appeal if you weren't as high as everyone else. Ah well. Next week.

Murdoc walked in to find the lights off, save for the glow of the television screen. Noodle was curled up on the couch fast asleep, 2D's lanky body sprawled across the too-small recliner. Kicking off his boots, Murdoc settled down next to Noodle's quietly breathing body and watched zombies rip out some woman's innards. 2D always forgot to turn the screen off before passing out. The boy's blue hair stuck out in tufts, his mouth slack in sleep, dead to the world.

Murdoc decided to let him sleep, yell at him tomorrow. He was feeling generous.

* * *

Guys, don't be afraid to let me know what you're thinking! It helps me with my own writing greatly

Thank you all for reading, the reaction to these stories has been so positive and uplifting, you guys are great!


	6. Unexpected Company

2D lived for the Saturdays.

It was one of those lazy Saturday afternoons, no plans, no responsibilities, and absolutely nothing to stop 2D from laying buried beneath the warm comforters of his bed for all of it. Nose nuzzling into a soft pillow, eyes closed, mind blissfully blank as he drifted in and out of dreamland...

Until light flared through his lids, bright and ringing and utterly intrusive. Instinctively rolling further into the pillow, 2D groaned.

"'oo is it?" His words were a garbled mess through the muffling fabric.

Suddenly his blankets were brutally ripped from him, and he slipped onto the floor with a painful thud.

"Get up ya lazy sod."

_Oh._

"Wot is it, Mudz?" 2D mumbled from the ground, still reluctant to move. "It's _Saturday_ for god's sake."

"Yeah, it's also bloody two in the afternoon. Get up, go do something with your miserable life."

"I don't have any plans."

"You're about to get some. Lying about all day, wasting air, you're pissing me off."

"But I didn't even _do_ nuffin!"

"Exactly!" Murdoc exclaimed, as though fully justified by 2D's confusion. "So up and at 'em, 2-Dent."

The breath was kicked out of 2D when Murdoc yanked him up by the collar and shoved him out the door. Reeling, he stumbled down the hallway half-consciously with the foul-tempered man unceasingly shoving him on the shoulder.

"Let's _move_, 2D, _move."_

2D rubbed his eyes, yawned, and allowed himself to be steered into the living room. Then Murdoc's hands were gone and he was left standing in a dirty shirt and old boxers, swaying on his feet. He heard voices. Was the television on? Maybe Noodle was watching some sort of show. 2D flopped on the couch with a splitting yawn and peeled his dark eyes open.

And saw three little girls sitting in front of the television.

2D blinked, looked away, and then back again to make sure he wasn't still dreaming. Nope, still there, all three of them. One was clearly Noodle, black tufts of hair tied up, sticking every which way like a porcupine. The girl tying the ponytails was skinny, with black corn-rowed hair and chubby cheeks. 2D had never seen her before. Neither did he recognize the one laying stomach-down, a plump girl with rabbit blonde hair, flipping through one of Noodle's fairy tale books. The corn-rowed girl was chattering away at Noodle, the other absorbed by _Cinderella _while some cartoon about two kids and a robot played in the background. 2D didn't know how to react, the whole situation was so foreign and _bizarre._

Murdoc was already slipping his shoes on. "Oh, right, Noodle's got two of her little friends over," he said with feigned realization, a nasty grin on his face. "I've got to slip out for a bit, you don't mind watching them, do you? Course ya don't, you're up anyways. See you in a few, don't burn the house down."

And he was gone before 2D even had time to process his words. He scratched his head slowly, thoughts a muddled mess. Coffee, he needed coffee. And a smoke. This was too much stress for so early in the day. Or two in the afternoon, whatever.

2D went to the kitchen in a daze, relying on muscle memory to get him his hot cup of caffeine. He fumbled around with the toaster for a bit, nearly dropping the metal thing on the floor he was so tired. Put the bread in, pushed down, watching the switch fling back up and realizing he hadn't plugged it in. Fiddling with it while the coffee burned, drinking the bitter stuff anyways. It was warm down his throat, and gave him a kick. Feeling much better, 2D took a bite of dry toast, something tickling at the back of his mind. He sat at the table, chewing slowly as he tried to remember. Was there something he had to do today? Russel was out, Murdoc was out, and Noodle was- _OH_

2D dashed back to the living room, toast in hand. With great relief he saw the girls were still in the room, though the skinny girl was now braiding the chubby girl's silvery hair. Noodle turned around and beamed at him, the multitude of ponytails in her hair bobbing as she moved.

"Too-Dee!"

The others turned too, the corn-rowed girl with guarded curiosity, the plump girl with outright awe.

"Is that your real hair?" she asked incredulously.

"Er, yeah." 2D ran a hand through his bedhead, wishing he'd cleaned up. Stupid Murdoc, could have told him there were strangers in the house. And _kid_ strangers, too. That made it ten times worse. Adults would judge you in private, but a kid would talk about the strange birthmark on your nose right to your face.

As it was, the blonde seemed amazed. "That's _so _cool."

"What's wrong with your eyes?" asked the corn-rowed girl plainly, like her question didn't touch a million sensitive nerves.

"Um, the one got all black when I got hit with a car 'n got in a coma, then the other got hit when I got in a car crash with Murdoc."

"So are you blind?"

"No, I can see."

Blondie butted in. "Are you Noodle's dad?"

2D shook his head. "No, nah, we're bandmates."

"Are you like her step-dad then?"

The label felt weird, and 2D brushed it off immediately. "No, not me. If anyone is, it's Murdoc, he's the band leader. But maybe Russel, cos he's a better dad I think…I never really thought about it before. I'm just like her roomie, but we get on alright."

Corn-rows seemed unimpressed, but Blondie was already distracted. "What's your name?"

"2D."

She squinted. "Really?!"

"Well no, it's Stuart, but 2D's my nickname," said 2D, feeling oddly compelled to explain everything to this small child. "Uh, wot's your name?"

"Rebecca," said the blonde.

"Paisley," said the brunette. "I'm nine."

"Cool," said 2D. Then he paused. "Wot are you doing here?"

The girls looked at each other. Rebecca giggled nervously.

"We're having a playdate with Noodle," said Paisley. "She invited us over, and that other guy who isn't her dad said it was okay."

"You should play with us." exclaimed Rebecca.

"Erm, okay." 2D looked around, unsure. "Wot are we playing?"

"Well," said Paisley, thinking. "How about you're the dragon, and I'm the princess, and Noodle has to rescue me."

"Yeah! No one every wants to be the dragon."

"Does, er, does Noodle know how to play?"

Rebecca nodded. "Oh yeah, no one ever wants to be the dragon when she's the prince. She's really good at fighting."

2D scratched his head. "Well…I dunno."

"It's super easy." Paisley was already getting to her feet, dragging 2D further into the living room. He let the tiny girl lead him to the couch, which she stood on, and began to waver her arms. "See, now I'm in your fortress, and Noodle has to rescue me."

"I'm in the fortress too." Rebecca clambered onto the cushions beside Paisley.

"Wait, wait," said 2D, putting his hands up. The girls stopped and looked at him as he inspected the living room. "If we push the couches together, we can make, like, a super big fortress. With a blanket over top. Like a cave."

Paisley's eyes widened. "That's. Awesome."

Rebecca giggled. "Noodle, your brother rocks!"

"Oh, I'm not-I, mmm, let's get some pillows too." 2D would rather build a fort than explain his convoluted relationship with Noodle. He raised a brow at her while the other girls bounded off to gather the supplies. She just gave him a toothy smile. Sometimes he suspected she understood more than she let on.

2D became more impassioned for the project than he could have possibly predicted. It was a tremendous process, involving several chairs, a broom, completely rearranging the couches so they stood in opposite corners of the room, all the blankets from Noodles room and two from 2D's, duct tape, and string. The blankets were draped everywhere as tautly pulled roofs, flapping doors, simply bunched on the floor. Paisley was more than happy to take advantage of both 2D's adult height and (questionable) strength, bossing him about the room to readjust one thing or another. Noodle helped immensely, able to acrobat herself into the nooks and crannies unreachable. And Rebecca was stunned by everything, the best moral support 2D could have hoped for.

"We're using _both couches_?"

"That's like, seven blankets!"

"It's so _high _it's almost touching the ceiling."

It took them a two hours, 2D sweating by the end of it. But it was so perfect. Massive, cozy, impossibly big for a blanket fort. It inhabited the entire living room, engulfing everything, even the television. There was something so addicting about working on a great, grand project, injecting every bit of effort and creativity you could muster into it and seeing the results. It was kinda like working on a song, exhausting, time-consuming, demanding every speck of attention. Tiring, sure, but 2D loved it.

Wiping his brow, he stepped back and admired the work. Not too shabby. He was rather proud.

"This," said Paisley, "is the best fort I have ever made."

Rebecca ducked inside. "This is so _cool_," she said, her voice muffled by the blanket door.

2D crawled in after her, joined by Noodle and Paisley. Light filtered through thin cotton sheet they used as the roof, outlining the girls' features.

"Like, it has a TV and everything!"

"We should watch a movie," said Paisley.

"Yeah!" exclaimed 2D excitedly. "You guys ever heard of 'Dawn of the Dead'? One of my favorites, Noodle's too."

Rebecca looked confused. "Is it Disney?"

"I've heard of it!" said Paisley. "My stupid brother wouldn't let me watch it."

2D gave them the DVD case. Rebecca looked it over with wonder, jaw dropping when she saw the rating.

"My mom would be so angry if she knew I watched this."

2D shrugged. "I won't tell her."

Nervous excitement drew across Rebecca's face. She handed him the case. "Let's do it."

When Murdoc came back, he nearly shit himself.

The living room was an absolute disaster. The fort was wrecked, pillows and blankets strewn everywhere, chairs overturned, couches in random juxtaposition, the entire room splattered with what looked and smelled like two jars of spaghetti sauce. 2D was lying on the floor, twitching and groaning comically, while Paisley scooped up the sauce piled on his t-shirt, taking bites between giggling hysterically. Noodle dashed wildly about the room escaping Paisley, who groaned in a similar way, arms outstretched. The two tripped and stumbled over the living room carnage, making pasta sauce handprints on the walls and sheets. It was sheer chaos.

"WHAT," roared Murdoc, "THE _FUCK_ IS GOING ON IN HERE?"

Everyone froze. 2D lifted his head, looking at Murdoc.

"Oh, we're just playin' zombies and survivors."

Murdoc fumed silently. 2D felt awkward.

"I-uh, was a survivor. But Rebecca got me."

_Silence_

"Um, I think I'm going to call my mom," said Paisley.

"Me too," Rebecca said quickly, trying to wipe the red sauce from her chin. "I still have homework. But I had a lot of fun."

"Yeah, thanks 2D."

"Thanks."

"This was seriously so cool."

"The _coolest_."

Two phone calls later, both Paisley and Rebecca gave him and Noodle a tight hug each. A wild twinkle lingered in their eyes, and 2D knew that they would remember this forever. They smiled and waved goodbye through the car windows, Paisley first, then Rebecca.

When they were gone, Noodle tackled 2D in a gripping hug.

"You are _best_ brother."

2D smiled. He could already feel the bruises Murdoc was bent on giving him, the hours of toiling clean-up yet to come.

Yeah, maybe he should have thought ahead. That was sort of a reoccurring issue with him. But Noodle clung tightly to him, and he realized that this was the first time he'd ever really seen her play with kids her age. She seemed happy.

So he didn't care.

* * *

Ahaha, 2D, you could have traumatized two ten year olds.

Thanks so much for reading, feel free to let me know what you think, if you have any prompts, whatever :) I love it all


	7. Parenthood

Russel could instantly that Noodle was hiding something.

She'd immediately sidestepped him, ignoring his 'hey, darling' and heading straight for her room, hands buried strangely in the opening of her jacket over a barely concealed bulge. He decided to leave it for a while, let her come to him in her own time. But even when he called her for supper a good time later, she stayed holed up in her bedroom.

"Sugar?" He knocked gently, holding a plate of food. "You in there?"

"Yes, Russ-el."

"You planning on comin' out any time soon?"

"No, I am sleeping."

He chuckled to himself. "Don't you want any supper? It's real good, made it myself." Nothing special, just easy cheesy chicken quesadillas, but Noodle loved them. She always loitered around the kitchen while he made them, watched as they baked in the oven. She'd burn her tongue off eating one if Russel didn't make her wait the ten minutes for cooling.

There was a pause, and he could almost hear the gears turning in her head.

"No. Thank you."

Now that strung a wrong chord. Frowning, Russel wrapped up the plate and stuck it in the fridge for later. What could it possibly be that she's go to such lengths to hide? It couldn't be good. Worry filled Russel's mind. Was it a gun? Drugs? Did Noodle even know what drugs were? Oh shit, she stole something. Stole it and brought it home and was trying to hide it in her room. Nah, she'd be acting so guilty he would smell it on her. There was a time in the supermarket when they were walking home, and she'd tugged on his shirt, awash with shame, and pulled out a peanut she'd pocketed from an open vendor. It was so small, but she got so worked up about it, explaining best as she could how she just wanted to crack it like in the Nutcracker movie they'd watched together. He couldn't see her pulling anything like that again.

So theft was unlikely. If it wasn't that, then it was probably something dangerous, if she was really worried he'd take it away from her. Russel racked his brains.

_It's drugs man_

_She's trippin' her ass off in that room right now_

_Why you think she lock that door?_

"Del, chill. It ain't drugs."

_Then call the nanny, that bitch got herself knocked up_

"Del…"

_You see if she ain't peeing on a stick when you go in there_

"The fuck, man? She's a kid."

_Oh yeah_

_Then it's probably a dead rat_

_That's what I did when I was a kid_

_Collect lil dead things_

_Keep 'em in my closet_

_Not really though_

_that's nasty_

Russel closed his eyes, trying to block Del out. The blue dude was great, but he had this one pegged all wrong. Unsure of what to do, Russel found himself pacing outside Noodle's door again.

He knocked. "Noodle? Noodle, hun, I know something's up. No matter what, I ain't gonna be angry with you." He waited. "You know you can come talk to me about anything." Then he smiled. "And don't pretend like you ain't hungry, I got your quesadilla waiting for you in the fridge."

Footsteps. The door opened just a sliver as Noodle eyed Russel suspiciously.

"Is…is Too-Dee and Mur-dock here?"

Russel shook his head. "Nope, just me."

She opened the door further, poking her head out. Satisfied with the empty hallway, she quickly yanked Russel in and shut the door.

But damn, that girl was strong. Russel considered himself a pretty big guy, but Noodle could flip him over like a pancake if she was so inclined. Finding his bearings, Russel looked around Noodle's room. Colourful, a little messy, very much inspired by her Japanese heritage, but nothing terribly out of the ordinary. Not until he saw Noodle poking around in her closet, withdrawing an old shoe box. Nervously, she handed it to him.

He took it gingerly, as though there might be a bomb inside. Noodle seemed apprehensive, which made him worry. He promised himself that he wouldn't get upset, no matter how bad it was. Steeling himself, Russel opened the lid.

He was confused at first. The things were small and grey, curled up indiscernibly. At first glance he thought it was a bunch of feathers, but then he saw heard the mewling.

Kittens, a whole litter of 'em. Russel was so relieved he laughed out loud.

"Noodle, where did you go about finding these lil guys?"

She looked away and shrugged. Lightly, Russel pet one of the tiny creatures with a finger, thinking that his whole hand would probably be overwhelming. They were so small! All pink noses and hungry cries, eyes squinted shut, ears flat against their fuzzy grey heads. Russel realized that these kittens were young, almost freshly born. Back when he was kid he'd seen his friend's cat give birth in the basement to seven kittens. He'd wanted one, but his mom wouldn't let him take one home.

Those kittens and these ones looked identical. Little claws, fuzzy bodies barely bigger than a mouse. And mewling hungrily.

"Noodle, where's these guys' mama?"

"Mama…" Noodle bit her lip, a habit for whenever she struggled for words. "Mama is…dead."

"Oh, honey." Now everything was clear. He knew of the park Noodle frequented, it was a haven for stray cats what with all the picnic leftovers and friendly people. But kids didn't know to be wary, they didn't think cats carried the same diseases that rats and pigeons did. "Did mama cat scratch you? Or bite you?"

She shook her head sadly. "No, just dead."

So Noodle was safe then. But Russel wasn't so sure about the kittens. "Okay girlie, we're gonna get this guys checked out."

Panicking, Noodle tried to snatch the shoe box back, but Russel managed to lift it out of her reach in time. "Don't worry, I just wanna make sure they're healthy. Don't want no fleas in the house, ya hear me?"

He supposed she did, because she bit her cheek and nodded reluctantly.

The visit to the vet had been speedy and successful. Other than being a little hungry, the kittens were fine. No rabies, no fleas, no nothing. The veterinarian, a kind woman in her thirties, did suggest a formula and dropper for the kittens as they had no mother to nurse them. Russel could feel Del flipping out when she named the price, but Noodle's puppy eyes pushed him over the edge and he opened his wallet. They'd find a way to cover it, once Murdoc got a hold of his ridiculous spending. Besides, wasn't 2D earning extra money for some job? He could pick up the slack, just this once. Russel considered 2D owed him that much for all the times he'd stood up to that grumpy asshole for him.

Noodle swung off Russel's free arm on the walk home, much happier. She kept glancing at the shoe box securely tucked in Russel's hand. The kittens yowled and cried, but the vet had said that was a sign of good health and vitality. She had seemed very optimistic about the future of these kittens.

As soon as they arrived home Noodle reached for the box. Delicately, she lifted one of the fuzzy kittens, grey with white marks, and nuzzled it against her cheek.

"Aiko." She set the kitten down on the soft carpet and lifted the next one, scrutinizing it closely. "Sunflower."

Russel chuckled when he realized Noodle was deciding on names. He left her to it and started figuring out how to work the formula and dropper. The instructions were simple, put the dropper in the milk to fill it, and feed by hand.

_SHIT _

_Really man_

_You gonna be up all night_

_There's like ten of those furballs_

Delicately ignoring Del, Russel picked up first kitten, Aiko, and gingerly placed the dropper full of formula to its mouth. Instinctively its little mouth opened, all pink gums and hungrily poking tongue. Russel squeezed a driblet of warm liquid on the kitten's tongue, and it swallowed greedily, mewling for more. Noodle watched him, the expression on her face absolutely precious.

"Very small," she whispered in awe. "My little Aiko."

She picked up Sunflower, discernible from Aiko by the white patches on its back, and set it on the soft carpet. There were three kittens left, and Russel let her name all of them.

"Nobu. Tomato. Mitsuru."

They all looked more of less the same, tiny grey fuzzballs, but Noodle seemed able to tell them apart. She took Aiko when Russel was finished feeding it and passed him Ko, all the while keeping the rest of the kittens safely in her lap. Russel watched her carefully, but Noodle was exceedingly gentle with the small creatures.

He figured Murdoc wouldn't be too pleased. 2D probably wouldn't care, he seemed more of a dog-person anyways, all dumb and extroverted. For the first couple of weeks these kittens would be very time consuming. And yeah, they were cute, but Russel wasn't exactly jumping to devote the next two weeks of his life to surrogate motherhood. There was a percussion sequence he was itching to finish that he'd been working on for the past two weeks, perfecting it. Plus all the shows he had to catch up on, and then the daily maintenance of the household. If your definition of household was 'anarchy under a shared roof'. Seriously, sometimes it was like he was the only one trying to set some damn rules in the place. Murdoc called it his 'drummer's tic', implying that Russel's so-called obsession with structure was rooted in his affinity for rhythm.

"Noodle," Russel said slowly. "You know these guys are gonna be a big responsibility."

"Yes."

"And if you wanna keep them, you gotta care for them."

"Yes, Russ-el."

"That means feeding, changing newspaper, grooming, everything that comes with being a regular mama. You ready for that?"

Noodle looked at him seriously. "Yes, Russ-el. I will mama the children."

"Kittens, young cats are called kittens."

"Yes. Kittens," Noodle beamed, relishing in the new word. She took the dropper and lifted a kitten, Tomato, Russel thought, feeding it. When the kitten opened its tiny mouth to lap the formula, she swelled with pride.

They lined a cardboard box with soft blankets for the kittens, deciding that Noodle's room would be the best place for them. The more hidden they were, the better. It wasn't exactly lying, just more of a 'not really your business' sort of thing, if Murdoc discovered the kittens and threw a fit. But that was something to worry about another time.

It was about twenty minutes before Noodle finished feeding the last kitten, Mitsuru. Happily nourished, the kittens curled up in one grey fuzzy mass and slept, the occasional whisker twitching. Noodle watched them vigilantly, utterly absorbed. Russel was tempted to stay as well, but that drum solo was knocking against his skull, rattling his brain with a five/four time signature.

He closed the door gently, thinking of how lucky those kittens were to have someone like Noodle looking out for them.

* * *

Yeah, this chapter was nothing but senseless adorableness. I really have no excuse, sometimes you just need something to be really cute, y'know?

The Japanese kitten names I got off a website for Japanese kitten names. I'm not Japanese, I don't speak Japanese, so if the names are weird/wildly inappropriate, let me know!

Also worth noting: I base Noodle's limited understanding of English on my own limited understanding of Spanish, substituting words, incorrect pronunciation, though I tried to adapt the difficulties to Japanese. So there is a rhyme and reason to her speech!

Feel free to leave a review if you have any thoughts on the chapter, and thank you so much for reading!


	8. Crazy Nights

2D inhaled the acrid tobacco, letting the chemical fumes expand in his wasted lungs. The taste was bitter on his tongue, and grey tendrils of smoke curled upwards from the end of the cigarette, the butt a glowing ember in the inky night sky.

He was alone in the park. Sprawled out on the stiff wooden bench, shifting as his muscles began to tingle. The air was cold, nipping at his shirt collar and underarms where slick sweat was gathered. It had to be two, maybe two thirty in _el mañana_. The muted thud of a bass beat like a heart in the soft background. It must really be loud if 2D could still hear it. He wondered where Murdoc was.

For a Friday night, the underground had been quite wild. 2D was drinking, smoking up, swaying his skinny body amongst the throes of other frenzied partiers to the pulsating music. He found a cute girl who stuck her tongue down his throat and pressed up against him as they danced. She smelled like sweat and glitter. Lights flashed over the crowd. People were shooting up in the corner, dirty needles littering the ground. The music was so loud 2D couldn't hear himself think. He felt as though he was floating, expanding, and every sensation was hypersensitive. The girl beneath him was silk and honey, and his senses were so up he could see the fine grains of blue dusting her eyelids, thick kohl liner slick as tar glued to feathery lashes.

But when one kid pulled a knife on some guy, 2D left. Some sort of gang business, not his bag. Loads of people stayed to watch the drama unfold, but 2D knew Murdoch would skin him if he was witness to a murder. Bad publicity, he'd say.

_Not like it'd be worse than anything he's done,_ 2D thought sourly. _Lousy git._

The chill was creeping in to 2D's bones and he shivered violently, wishing that the girl was still with him, pressed close, soft and warm. Instead he stuck another cancer stick between his hungry lips. He didn't want to go home yet. The world was spinning in a glass prism around him, distorted and dizzying. Whatever slick substance was in that last needle he could feel sloshing in his veins like rainwater, diluting his thoughts. His heart beat rapidly caged within his sharp, protruding ribs. Maybe he overdid it.

Seized by a sharp burst of energy, 2D lurched up. He leaned over the back of the bench and heaved, vomit splattering the dewy grass. The smell was thick and terrible. His throat burned and his head was swimming. The growing nausea combined with the foul smell twisted his stomach and he wretched again, choking up more watery bile. It tasted like vodka and ash, leaving a nasty bitterness on his tongue.

He tried to ease himself back down, but his arms faltered and he slipped off the park bench. Landing in the grass was soft, but it jolted his brain and rattled his bones. He rolled over and let his face crush into the prickly grass blades, breathing dirt. Cognitions were slipping away. A wet cough crawled up his throat, then another. 2D rolled on his back and clutched his stomach as more liquid spluttered out painfully. He tried to spit, but his head was suddenly too heavy to lift. Black spots dotted his vision as he tried to breathe, but his lungs were on fire.

"Here you are, you stupid twat."

2D tried to crane his head, but another bout of coughs forcefully overtook him. Rough hands hitched beneath his armpits and pulled him up. 2D let his head loll forward, spit and vomit dribbling out. The cig he dropped in the grass, long forgotten.

"What the fuck did you take?"

2D moaned and tried to slump back into the soft grass, but some force yanked him up and pushed his head forward. A gob of vomit that was stuck in his throat splattered into the grass.

"I swear, if you puke on my boots I'll kick your head in."

Trying to steady himself, 2D clutched his head. His hands were shaking. So were his legs. They wobbled like twigs as he was lifted to stand, leaning the entirety of his weight on the arms holding him. He was almost certain it was Murdoc, from the growly voice and biting words. But as long as reality was smeared across his vision like paint, he did not let himself be too sure of anything.

"Muh…Mudz…"

"Bleedin' Christ," Murdoc grunted. "You weight a fucking ton when you're drunk."

"Ah…sorry…" 2D lurched forward and wretched again, but his stomach was empty. Instead he spat dark shiny blood. The taste of metal made his tongue curl. "…I feel…like shit…"

"You look it too."

Murdoc roughly shoved 2D back onto the bench. "There, now I can fucking see how wasted you are. You're all freakish legs, barely reach your fucking chin." Cold fingers seized 2D's jaw. "I forget, you're pupils…ah, you looking fucking pale as a sheet. Shakin' like a leaf, too…what _did_ you take?

2D shrugged away. "…dunno…got a needle off a Donny…'n' Ted…I had…er…little red…ecstacy…thinger…"

"You fucking twat." Murdoc shook his head angrily. "Don't just stick the damn things in. Might've been bloody arsenic 'n' you wouldn't know the difference."

"I thought…heroine…"

"Besides," Murdoc continued over 2D, not listening, "Whatever you're getting from Ted, it's gonna be shit. Fucker dilutes his shit and pockets the difference. Don't waste your time with him."

"…kay…"

2D's eyelids were heavy as lead. He let them slip over his blackened eyes. At the raves, no one ever gave him shit for his weird, empty eyes. They were either high enough to believe a hallucination, or were utterly fascinated in the same way as a sleeve tattoo or a nipple piercing.

_Slap_

Sharp pain snapped him from his muddled thoughts. "_Shit_! Murdoc, what'd you go 'n' do that for!?"

Shaking his hand rather sorely, Murdoc scowled. "I'm not having you pass out on me an' makin' me drag your sorry arse home."

How far was the flat from the park again? 2D was never good with calculating distances, and he had just sort of wandered aimlessly before he felt his legs would collapse and the need for tobacco was killing him. Maybe another thirty minutes. Forty, if he stumbled the entire walk, the way he was likely to. Just the thought made him cringe.

"I don't wanna…go home…"

"Well, you're not sleeping in the bloody park. Some homeless guy might piss on your face."

"…w-what…why would they…?"

"It's what I'd do if I was a homeless git. No cable, right?"

Moaning, 2D rubbed his eyeballs, itchy with sleep. He gave a giant yawn, and coughed another gob of blood down his shirt.

"That better be vomit." Murdoc glanced at the congealing stain.

2D shrugged. He wasn't about to piss Murdoc off even more.

"Hey Mudz…"

"What?"

2D scrunched up his face. "Are you…are you sober?"

"Yeah, unfortunately. Was doin' a deal with Jack, had to keep my wits about me. That prick would swindle me for everything if he thought I wouldn't kill him for it."

Suddenly everything was much clearer. When Murdoc was pissed or high he became exceedingly obnoxious and raunchy. And _loud_, 2D's least favorite part. Murdoc seemed too level-headed and calm to be under any influence right now.

He also seemed far too concerned.

Suspicion crawled into the back of 2D's brain, at least what cogs were still churning sluggishly away. Murdoc wanted something. Or maybe he had done something and was trying to hide it. Either way, 2D was on his guard. At least he would be if he was, in any sense, in his right mind.

"Murdoc, wot did…yer being too nice…"

Murdoc snorted. "I'm always nice."

"Wot…wot did you do…?"

"Robbed a bank, shagged the judge. What are we talking about?"

"…you haven't…hit me or anything…"

"Life's already gotten you by the brass tonight, Stu. 'Sides, if I punched you now, you'd probably drop dead. And I'm not gettin' put away for manslaughter, not again."

2D coughed.

"Right, let's get you home."

Against his will, 2D shuffled alongside Murdoc, held in a vice-like grip. Due to his towering height he actually trailed behind Murdoc a bit, leaning forwards with his lanky arms thrown over Murdoc's shoulders. His entire side leaned on the shorter man, but if Murdoc was growing tired he didn't show it. One hand wrapped tightly around 2D's wrists, the other snaked around his waist and held him upward.

"Useless…bleeding…" Murdoc grumbled curses under his breath. "Making me…stupid…"

Stopping, 2D felt his stomach twist again. He wretched over Murdoc's shoulder.

"Augh, that's disgusting!" The man's voice was crawling. "Aren't you fucking empty yet?"

2D tried to decide. "I…I think…"

"Don't answer that, I don't care."

It was an eternity of freezing night air, aching bones, and wet coughs before they finally made it back to the flat. Murdoc slipped the key into the lock and turned silently.

"Be fucking quiet, Noodle's sleeping."

Nodding, 2D stumbled inside, heaving a sigh of great relief as warmth flooded his skin. He would have flopped onto the couch and gone straight to sleep if Murdoc didn't seize him by the arm and drag him to the washroom.

"No no, nope, you are not getting any of your disgusting bodily fluids on _those_ couches."

The tiles were cold under his bare toes as 2D fumbled with the zipper on his trousers. Finally, Murdoc became so frustrated that he pulled them down with one quick yank, like he was pantsing 2D. Pulling his shirt over his head, 2D suddenly felt extremely self-aware.

"Mudz…turn around…"

Murdoc raised his brows. "This is a fine time to get shy."

"I..I'm indecent…"

"Shut up and get in the bloody shower."

After a quick rinse, washing chunks of dried vomit from his azure hair and other stains on his skins, 2D clambered out of the tub. Murdoc threw a fluffy towel and a clean pair of pajama pants at him, keeping his eyes averted at 2D's drunken insistence.

"I'm not helping you with those," he said pointedly.

Slipping into the soft material, 2D felt incredibly grateful to the inventor of the elastic waistband. Now he thought, bedtime. But Murdoc had other ideas.

He steered 2D back to the living room and shoved a cup of water in his hand.

"You drink that."

2D chugged the liquid back. If he could do cinnamon vodka, he could do water. It was cool and fresh down his throat, clearing out the taste of blood and filling his empty stomach.

Murdoc returned with a bowl of microwaved cheesy macaroni. "Eat this now."

"…er...okay…"

Hands quivering tremulously, 2D spoon-fed himself like a toddler. Missing the mouth quite often, smearing liquid cheese on his cheek. Murdoc sighed tiredly, rubbing his temple.

"You're useless, y'know that. Can't do nothing right."

As the warm food filled 2D and buffered the illegal substances in his system, he began to come down. The slowly building throbbing in his head was a sure sign. He put down the spoon and clutched at his forehead.

Murdoc laughed gleefully. "Yeah, not feeling so good now, are we? Getting a bit sober there, Stu-Pot?"

2D nodded. The action sent a shooting pain through his skull and he winced.

"My head…really hurts."

Murdoc heaved himself off the couch. "Get yourself some meds. I'm going to bed."

"Oh, okay."

2D watched Murdoc go. The bassist shook his head and muttered to himself as he hauled himself up the stairs, littered with laundry and other things. Not once did he glance back as 2D.

Luckily, 2D stashed his medication everywhere in the house, just to be safe. There were three bottles of the stuff on the coffee table by the couch. He reached over and rattled out four pills, swallowing with another gulp of water. He settled on the couch, pulling the decorative faux fur blanket over his weary body. Murdoc really had a taste for trash, trash and tiger stripes, but it was warm. That was 2D's last thought as he slipped into sleep.

The next morning hit 2D like a truck. He slept until the afternoon, pulling the blanket over his eyes to block the light as Murdoc yelled at him to get up.

Sitting up sluggishly, 2D rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"You look fucked up."

"Yeah… last night was crazy."

"Really?"

"Yeah, must've been, I don't remember a thing."

"You never do." There was something funny in Murdoc's smirk, but 2D shrugged it off. He was too hungry to think.

"What's in the fridge?"

"Leftovers."

"Any mac 'n' cheese?"

"Nah, someone at it all. Pizza, though."

"Great." With great difficulty, 2D forced himself up to reheat a slice. His legs protested, but his growling stomach egged him on greedily. And besides, he knew Murdoc well enough to not ask for any favors.

* * *

So macaroni and cheese is definitely what I eat to sober up. I know, it's been an unexpected motif! I really don't know why!

The responses to these shorts have been so wonderful and supportive. Thank you all so much. It's so fun writing for you guys, I truly love it and I love hearing from you! These characters are all so much fun to write, but I find myself drawn to Murdoc and 2D stories, and then Noodle and Russel stories. I guess I just prefer the way their personalities all play off on one another, but I really should try to switch it up every once in a while.

Edit: seriously, thanks for fixing my typos. You guys rock

Have a good one, and thanks a bundle


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